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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912754">How far would you go for a chance at nothing?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeChaosSpinner/pseuds/SomeChaosSpinner'>SomeChaosSpinner</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red hat under green eyes: Carmen Sandiego/TMA AU [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(music) It was agatha all along!, Also yes Naomi is Paperstar, Always, F/F, Gen, I'm hella tired posting this, Me? Finally working on The Plot?, Multi, No beta we kayak like Tim, Other, Spoiler alert: The orphan with a tragic past has no father, The major character death isn't as major as you think it is but I decided to be polite, probably gonna add more to these tags later, the first chapter is just self indulgence bear w/ me here, the web fucks everything up</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:02:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeChaosSpinner/pseuds/SomeChaosSpinner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Various statements regarding the web's infiltration and interference within the institute.<br/>-<br/>Everyone has managed to convince themselves that Carmen is gone, devoured by what feeds her. Julia is beggining to believe it to... until she finds herself in the precense of someone who offers her a deal.<br/>But... is it worth it? All that risk, for, at bare minumum and most likely best scenario, some answers?<br/>Well, Julia Argent is the archivist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julia "Jules" Argent/Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep, Julia "Jules" Argent/Ivy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red hat under green eyes: Carmen Sandiego/TMA AU [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Schoolyard bully</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>[Recording begins]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: You’re recording on that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia (sighing): Yes. the computer doesn’t work down here. Something with the plumbing, Ivy told me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: Does it even </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia (dryly): No. I’ve spent almost three years recording hundreds of statements only to have nothing to show for it because the recorder is broken for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun.</span>
  </em>
  <span> (Pause) Can we begin?</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheena: I guess.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Great. Statement of Sheena Evans, regarding…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: A fight. On my college campus. This winter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Statement recorded direct from subject, July 7th, by Julia Argent, the archivist. Statement begins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: I never wanted to go to college. It sounds like a silly thing to say, I suppose, given how many “important” jobs you can only get with a degree</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it was something I never really had as part of my plans. See the world, maybe, but spend tens, maybe hundreds, of thousands of dollars for extra school, only to end up with a degree that, given how quickly job demands change around here, will probably be </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless </span>
  </em>
  <span>by the time I get it? Hard pass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But my parents insisted. That’s the thing with my parents, you see. The fact that they were divorced once and married twice didn’t change the fact that when they agree on something, it’s like a brick wall. It’s stupid, looking back, that I caved under the pressure, but I was staying with my parents at the time after plans with a friend fell through. There was really no end to their constant badgering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So I agreed. Under one condition: I could pick my own major.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And out of spite, I picked the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless</span>
  </em>
  <span> one: philosophy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I probably would have changed it later down the line. The degree wouldn’t have got me very far and the teacher was an asshole. But, one month in, I was feeling pretty good about my decision. I was staying at the dorms because the college was two hours away from my house, and despite how the coursework sometimes made me feel like I was being graded on my existential crisis, it was relatively easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I made a few friends. ...Well, I don’t know if you could call them </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We went out together, and talked, and griped about our respective classes on the phone, but I never really felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span> around them. Not in that way- I could probably kick all their asses… but that was sort of the thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I figure it’s always a matter of time before people get tired of you, either in hours or decades. And sometimes my interactions with people seem like that, but on a timelapse. People take me at face value, because they presume, correctly or otherwise, that that’s all I am. And they get bored of that. I suppose that’s a nihilistic way to look at life, but it’s how I do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s not really important to the story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, a month in, my friend called me. I had just gotten back from class and was about to finish up some homework I had been putting off, and I was a bit antsy to get back to that as I clicked Accept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I asked him what it was, and he told me to go outside. That there was something he needed to show me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, up to this point, there was nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the school. It was a new-ish looking set of buildings nestled in some tiny town off the coast of New England, the kind you’d never know was a campus if not for all the people on it. It had an average amount of student-to capacity ratio, maybe a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> higher than my local community college, but that wasn’t strange. It was partly why I’d picked that school, because there were more people to get lost in, more people to grab the attention of. I do well in crowds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, overall it was just what you’d expect. And i was expecting nothing out of the ordinary as I told Theo I’d be right down-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Full names, please.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: Theodore. Theodore Adams.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Julia takes in a breath)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sheena: Anyway, I told him I’d be right down, still sort of looking over at my still-open textbook. It was January, and, as you might know, it gets quite cold in New England winters. So I put on my coat first, but the zipper got jammed. Not a big deal- a bit of fiddling will typically do the trick when that happens- but as I tried to get the fabric out from under the chain, I couldn’t help but notice what sounded like shouting. It was a bit strange, considering that it couldn’t have been past four o’ clock, but I thought it was just what Theo had said he had to show me. A party, or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, I got my coat zipped up, as well as a scarf around my neck and a hat on my head, then stepped outside. My dorm building’s exit is faced a bit closer to the road than the rest of the buildings, so I had to loop around to get to where Theo asked me to meet him. The sun was already going down and it was an overcast day, so I had trouble making him out in the crowd that had gathered outside one of the buildings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t tell what they were doing, because my view was blocked. The students were formed in a ring around something, tightly pressed together, and it was like looking for a hole in a wall as I tried to find a way to push through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo, a few feet away from where I was, spotted me and gestured me over. I went over to him gratefully, hoping he could offer some light on the situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo is a bit taller than me, so I couldn’t see past where he was. Looking back, it seemed almost like he was trying to block my view. I asked him what was going on. He smiled and asked if I liked a competition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was sort of confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of competition?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His smile grew wider. The shadows cast by the clouds amplified the gaunt shapes that had formed in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When had he gotten so… sharlike? I couldn’t explain it, but he looked the way an animal does right before it attacks. I was feeling uneasy and about to back away when he suddenly answered my question, grabbing my arm and leaning in close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Student-on-student. Prove yourself. Don’t you want that, Sheena? To prove you’re not the weakest one in the pack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pulled away from him, walking around the circle, away from him. I didn’t like the way Theo was looking at me. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes that made me uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I was about to turn back to my dorm, to my abandoned homework, when someone, who I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> was my roommate, grabbed my wrist and yanked me into the ring. I stumbled briefly, then looked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were two kids, locked in combat, at the center. They appeared to be wrestling, like how everyone does when they’re kids, but it was something more than that. As I looked closer, I could see that one of the kids’ arms was bent as an awkward ankle, and I could see streaks of red on various areas across their bodies. Still they fought- fists flailing, feet finding purchase on each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when I realized how quiet it was. There’s always a sort of silence that settles over a cloudy day, sort of like a blanket of vapor is smothering all the sounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this was different- no one was talking. They were just watching the fight with faces that showed glee in their grins but no light behind their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know how long I stood there, confused and a bit scared by the battle unfolding in front of me. It could have been hours, or it could have been seconds. All I know is that after a certain amount of time, one of the  people’s heads snapped toward me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took until they dropped the other person, who they had been holding in a headlock, that I realized they were dead. I heard cheers from the crowd as they approached me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I… don’t remember what happened after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like a fog settled over me. All i know is that after it struck me with startling clarity that this person was a killer, I woke up on the ground, feeling cold and sore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no one around me, no evidence suggesting that there had been a fight except for my appearance, with its bloody nose and torn clothes. Considering the state of the one who died, I think I got off easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If that did happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I found out later I had been missing for a day and a half. Theodore had apparently started a fight. It later turned lethal, two people dead, five injured, and three, including myself and Theodore, were missing. I don’t…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Sigh)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know. It didn’t feel real. I suppose it could have been, maybe I missed the start of it. but the one thing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t add up was in the report I saw on the news, it said that my roommate, Naomi Turner, was suffocated- drowned? After being pushed and held face first into a snowbank during the fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no snow on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So that’s why I came to you. (Voice shifting) Because I don’t know where I went, or what really happened, or where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> Theo is, but it wasn’t natural.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Thank you, Miss Evans. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Recording ends)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Recording continues)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Follow up statement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Sounds of rustling pages)</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Julia: This statement has yet to be looked into by the institute’s researchers, since it was given less than an hour ago, but at a glance, Miss Evans does not appear to be lying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, she does not seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>aware</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she is. There is no way to prove her account of the incident after she left her dorm, given it was likely a dream or hallucination. Theodore Adams did, in fact, disappear from a college campus in New Hampshire after inciting a riot. Sheena Evans also disappeared for a few days before reappearing where she had been last seen, and taken to the hospital for treatments of a broken nose and mild hypothermia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naomi Turner, an art student, was killed in the chaos. Her body later disappeared from the morgue. There was no sign of tampering or a break-in, and it has yet to be recovered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Classes were later indefinitely suspended after police investigations into the disappearances revealed a… (hah) web of… less than savory things that had been covered up in the past. The school was landed in hot water and decided to temporarily close in an attempt to save face. It is still closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Pause)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Side note: Sheena Evans reportedly found us through Carmen, or, at least, that’s what she told Zack. (Sighing) But... Carmen is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which means this whole statement is probably a joke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy (from out in the hallway): Fuck!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Sounds of Ivy scampering into the room, then stopping as she realizes Julia is recording)</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Ivy: Sorry. It’s just… spiderweb! In the hallway. I came down here to check on you and I walked right into it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia (deadpan): You know it’s against the rules to interrupt the archivist while they’re recording.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy: Oh shit. Sorry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: I’m joking, Ivy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy: Oh. It’s just… really hard to tell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: What did you need?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy: Chase found the file you were looking for. Artefact storage, they actually got it dropped off a few months back by some guy who also… you know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia (genuine): Thanks, Ivy. I’ll have a read through it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy: As a thank you, can you talk to Tamara for me?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: About what?</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ivy: An exterminator. These spiders are </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They’ve just been getting worse since the burning. And you know it’s hard to get a hold of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: I’ll ask her for you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ivy: Thanks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Ivy leaves)</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(A beat)</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Julia: Follow up ends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Recording ends)</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You Lose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Statement of a unknown subject, regarding the last moments of Dexter Wolfe.<br/>-<br/>Back on my bullshit by popular demand, it's me<br/>For this statement: Feelings of paranoia, morbid thoughts about death, fire</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a little bit, huh<br/>I got into genshin impact recently, it's pretty good</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>(Recording begins)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(From far off) Tamara: ...make sure to lock the doors after you leave. It’s a miracle nothing was taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julia: I will. Have you filed a report yet?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tamara: No… (words become inaudible)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Silence for a few minutes)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Sounds of Julia sitting down)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(She goes to turn on the tape, but realizes it’s on)</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Julia: Statement of an unknown person, regarding the last moments of Dexter Wolfe. Statement recorded at an unknown date, 2000. Recording done by Julia Argent, the archivist, on July 10th, 2021. Statement begins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fire was eating away at everything Dexter Wolfe had ever worked for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It may have been an overdramatization, looking back. The fire did not bring back the dead. It did not restore stolen things. Despite how the tongues of flames surrounded him on all sides and seemed to take up the entire world in that moment, it could not touch his legacy, or his infamy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps that had been his downfall. He had not been careful enough. Even now, as he slammed his palms into the windows, trying to create an exit with no avail, he tried to think about what had gone wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dexter Wolfe knew, in his heart. He knew this was all his fault, that his daughter would now grow up without a father, if she grew up at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought he could walk away from this. From his past life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t know about the institute. He hadn’t known there had been various people trying to find out more about him, that he was in so many statements, each one being a puzzle piece to a puzzle which had finally been assembled. He hadn’t known the fire had been arson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By whom, it did not matter. The flames consumed all the same, and the smoke suffocated all the same, and the roaring inferno crept closer all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Do you know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud</span>
  </em>
  <span> fire is, archivist? I’m not talking about campfires, although, unless this has ended up in the hands of a firefighter</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that may be your only experience with somewhat uncontained flames. Unless you weren;t careful in its lighting… but that’s another story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, I don’t think you know. It’s quite fascinating, really, the science behind the roaring noises of a massive blaze. The air around a fire is heated, and it rises. Air rushes in to fill the space. So, what you’re really hearing is akin to incredibly fast, hot wind moving through the air. Combined with popping sparks and exploding trees, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not sure if the lighter of the fire had intended to kill his daughter. It certainly would have, if she was there. But she was safe… for how long, he could not say. He couldn’t say he could trust the people who had offered to take in his children, but he knew them, and he hadn’t had time to look for anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of the roof fell down above him, and Dexter jumped away from the window to keep the blazing wood from coming upon his head. It still brushed against his jacket, and he shouted in alarm as it almost immediately caught light, ripping it off before he could even register the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was becoming woozy. There was almost no oxygen left among the smoke, and even if it felt like he was taking breathable air into his lungs, even if his body demanded that he attempt to, he knew, deep within him, that the smoke would push away oxygen and eat him from the inside out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his haze, Wolfe tried to figure out what to do. He was sure he could survive, maybe, if he just hung on a little longer and remembered what he had been taught. Get down on the ground; that was where oxygen was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then do what?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure who had locked the doors. It couldn’t have been him, or was it? Wolfe did not know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, regardless, he didn’t have a key, which meant he was stuck in this room, waiting to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could do. Maybe if he was bit stronger, he could ignore the flames until he was out and-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of the question. If he did that, he would not come back. He could not escape its cruel grasp again. The grasp of the beast that had stalked him for years, motivating his thoughts and actions, something he could feel, and must have known the name of, but escaped presence on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now, he could feel it, watching him with hungry eyes, whispering to him with a seductive voice, with promises of the power to escape and get what he deserved. Power. A new life, with his daughter. To not lose it all because of a simple mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix this, Dexter Wolfe. You just have to trust me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wolfe backed away from the growing flames, feeling the heat scorch his back. Eventually, he would have to accept there was nowhere to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, how long the heat had slowly risen, how long things had begun to explode from the high temperatures. It felt like hours. But, realistically, it was likely only minutes. If it had been hours, he would already be dead. Fire spreads fast, archivist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision grew darker as his skin was slowly cooked. In the back of his shutting down brain, he wondered what would take his life: the flames or the smoke. I’ve heard, myself, that burning to death is much more painful, one of the worst ways to die. But suffocation seems more terrifying. Feeling your own body begin to shut down, losing control in your brain’s desperate battle to gain oxygen, opening your mouth in a reflexive attempt to gain that air, but instead only inhaling smoke, or water, or sand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wonder what drives the morbid curiosity of humanity, to research that. Death. Do they want to discover what would be the best way to go? So that they may have something to hope for, even with the looming of death, that it may not be so bad, and be able to paint a picture of that hope?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m sure, if you die, that you will Know. unless the Eye cuts you off, of course. Which it probably will, if you were able to die at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>End statement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Julia clears her throat)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Well, that was certainly disturbing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It says here that efforts to follow up with the statement giver were unsuccessful, as there was no given name and the researcher, retired now, listed as having taken the statement doesn’t actually remember taking it. Without a date, it’s near impossible to track down the statement giver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Very little research was ever put iro this statement, unsurprisingly. There was an attempt to find out who Dexter Wolfe was, however, by Tamara Fraser when she worked as an assistant in 2004. Interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She recorded her findings here. Dexter Wolfe was taken into custody by Argentinian police sometime around march, 1999, on charges of shoplifting and assault, then later released on bail, paid by a colleague who was not named in public record, for whatever reason. Two months later, what was thought to be his bones were found buried in the woods, near a ruined building that was being investigated after burning to the ground under mysterious circumstances. The fire did not spread to the trees around it, suggesting it was intentional. The unnamed colleague was briefly investigated after this find, but, seeing as it was difficult to prove the bones belonged to Dexter and there was no clear motive, the case was dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing that intrigues me is mentions of a daughter. Dexter Wolfe mostly stayed out of the public eye, and there is no mention of him having family, most of his assets being donated to a company he coran after being declared legally dead in 2006. It was speculated by some that his business was an MLM, but, again, there was no way to prove it, because he was very private about his work. And if it was an MLM, the amount of secrecy and exclusiveness makes it a shitty model for how to run one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a photo attached here from his mug shot. It’s nice to finally have a face to the name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone broke into the archives last night. I had a look around this morning. I can’t find any evidence that anything was taken. Some of the files were moved. I asked Chase if he just forgot to check in while doing some late night work, since they were all files assigned to him, but he said no. Ivy practically dragged me home last night, which I suppose makes me a suspect, considering the timing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes I really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wish there were cameras in the archive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(A thump)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Julia: Hm?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Footsteps as Julia walks away from their desk)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Closet door opens)</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Julia: What’s in- (cry of alarm)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Muffled yelps)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Frantic footsteps as someone runs over to the desk)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unknown: Sorry, sorry-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Recording ends)</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't you wish I stopped writing so many cliffhangers? Me too</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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